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I suppose I’ll always be over-vulnerable, slightly paranoid.
Sylvia Plath, from The Unabdridged Journals Of Sylvia Plath  (via thisiskittenfood)
What you must understand about me is that I’m a deeply unhappy person.
John Green, Looking for Alaska (via corvus-s)

(Source: feellng)

Robin Williams didn’t die from suicide. I only just heard the sad, sad news of Robin Williams’s death. My wife sent me a message to tell me he had died, and, when I asked her what he died from, she told me something that nobody in the news seems to be talking about.

When people die from cancer, their cause of death can be various horrible things – seizure, stroke, pneumonia – and when someone dies after battling cancer, and people ask “How did they die?”, you never hear anyone say “pulmonary embolism”, the answer is always “cancer”. A Pulmonary Embolism can be the final cause of death with some cancers, but when a friend of mine died from cancer, he died from cancer. That was it. And when I asked my wife what Robin Williams died from, she, very wisely, replied “Depression”.

The word “suicide” gives many people the impression that “it was his own decision,” or “he chose to die, whereas most people with cancer fight to live.” And, because Depression is still such a misunderstood condition, you can hardly blame people for not really understanding. Just a quick search on Twitter will show how many people have little sympathy for those who commit suicide…

But, just as a Pulmonary Embolism is a fatal symptom of cancer, suicide is a fatal symptom of Depression. Depression is an illness, not a choice of lifestyle. You can’t just “cheer up” with depression, just as you can’t choose not to have cancer. When someone commits suicide as a result of Depression, they die from Depression – an illness that kills millions each year. It is hard to know exactly how many people actually die from Depression each year because the figures and statistics only seem to show how many people die from “suicide” each year (and you don’t necessarily have to suffer Depression to commit suicide, it’s usually just implied). But considering that one person commits suicide every 14 minutes in the US alone, we clearly need to do more to battle this illness, and the stigmas that continue to surround it. Perhaps Depression might lose some its “it was his own fault” stigma, if we start focussing on the illness, rather than the symptom. Robin Williams didn’t die from suicide. He died from Depression*. It wasn’t his choice to suffer that.


Tom Clempsom (via mollyfamous)
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If someone were to die at the age of 63 after a lifelong battle with MS or Sickle Cell, we’d all say they were a “fighter” or an “inspiration.” But when someone dies after a lifelong battle with severe mental illness and drug addiction, we say it was a tragedy and tell everyone “don’t be like him, please seek help.” That’s bullshit. Robin Williams sought help his entire life. He saw a psychiatrist. He quit drinking. He went to rehab. He did this for decades. That’s HOW he made it to 63. For some people, 63 is a fucking miracle. I know several people who didn’t make it past 23 and I’d do anything to have 40 more years with them.

anonymous reader on The Dish

One of the more helpful and insightful things I’ve seen about depression/suicide in the last couple of days.

(via the-greatdepression)

Wow

(via breathingtimemachine)

(Source: mysweetetc)

1920
Listen,
if you’re going to leave, that’s fine.
and I know you promised you wouldn’t
seven months ago while I was crying
into your neck but I also know that
sometimes it rains even when it’s not
supposed to and sometimes boys
kiss girls they shouldn’t and we tear
flowers out of the ground just to watch
them die and things change,
so I understand if you’re done,
but please, when you’re packing all your
old sweaters and books, don’t forget
to take all your three AM phone calls,
and photographs where we’re smiling
so wide it looks like we’ve never known
that feeling in the pit of your stomach
when someone screams “I don’t love you
anymore.”
Take back every kiss, every night you
fell asleep next to me, every poem I
wrote you, every song you sang to
me, every “I love you more fight,”
every shock I felt in my skin when
you brushed against me.
I was never scared of ghosts until you
left but now I see you everywhere and
god if you’re going to kill me please
just do it quickly because I see you
in everything and it’s making it hard
to breathe

I won’t say I miss you but I think my mother knows anyway  (via suchvodka)

(Source: extrasad)

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